Istanbul’s Sublime Hagia Sophia.

Istanbul’s Sublime Hagia Sophia.

September 2020.

I think it’s testament to Istanbul’s vast scope of fascinating sights that I’m only now getting around to writing about what is arguably the city’s most spectacular mosque.

Sladja and I loved exploring the Turkish capital’s many mosques. Indeed I have already shared our experience at the stunning Suleymaniye Mosque. Moreover, I have an article in the works rounding up the many mosques we visited, including numerous under-the-radar structures that often escape the attention of the casual visitor. Watch this space.

Read any online article about Istanbul and the general consensus is this: if you’ve only got time for a few mosques, one should head straight to Hagia Sophia and The Blue Mosque. As fate would have it, The Blue Mosque was under renovation during our Istanbul stay. Thus I have opted to relegate what little we managed to see to the roundup article. Bummer, we’ll no doubt catch it in its full glory next time.

Happily, we did get full access to the magnificent masterpiece that is Hagia Sophia. Much like the Blue Mosque, it’s almost impossible not to stop in your tracks as its imposing facade comes into view.

Furthermore, one can’t help but consider its muddled history. As with The Chora, recently written up on these pages, Hagia Sophia started out as a Christian church before being transformed into a mosque.

Istanbul’s Sublime Hagia Sophia.

Hagia Sophia is oooooold. In fact, the structure dates back to 537AD. And that was the third church built on this spot by the Eastern Romans. It remained an Orthodox church for some time, until of course the Ottomans steamrolled their way into Constantinople in 1453. I know…. you’ve heard this story in previous articles.

As with many Christian edifices, they soon set to work changing it into a mosque. And so it remained a Muslim house of worship until 1935 when local authorities turned it into a museum. Later, in 2020, it was President Erdogan who gave the order for Hagia Sophia to revert to a mosque.

Standing as the world’s largest cathedral for over a thousand years, we were expecting to be impressed by the scale and beauty of Hagia Sophia’s sumptuous interior.

We certainly weren’t disappointed as we entered the nave, where the immense beauty of the place comes at you from all directions. A heady rush of smooth marble slabs, gold chandeliers and meticulous mosaic patterns.

Not to mention the giant painted medallions in tribute to Islam’s most revered figures. Designed by the renowned calligrapher Kazasker Mustafa Izzet Efendi in the late 1840s, they honour Allah, Muhammed and Abū Bakr, among others.

Exploring the Turkish Capital.

It is a truly breathtaking spectacle. Especially when one considers the heavyweight figures of history whose footsteps we were now retracing. For it was here that the Byzantine emperor Justinian I ordered the land’s finest architects to build him a grand Greek Orthodox church in the 6th century.

And where, in 1453, Mehmed the Conqueror demanded the church’s transformation into a mosque immediately upon entering the building following his capture of the city. He then promptly stabbed one of his own soldiers to death after he tried to unearth a marble floor slab as a souvenir.

However, this sense of history and culture was dampened somewhat by how horribly busy it was that day. As one of the world’s  most gorgeous mosques, Hagia Sophia is rammed with visitors every day all year round. Even, as we discovered, right in the heart of the COVID-19 pandemic when three quarters of the world were hiding away at home.

Actually, we were somewhat fortunate with the crowds. After all, we’d managed to arrive early in the morning before the day’s insane queues kicked in. Thus it didn’t take long for us to gain entry. And, for the first ten minutes or so at least, we found our passage, views and photographic angles largely unencumbered. Just a touch of patience needed here and there.

Istanbul’s Sublime Hagia Sophia.

Unfortunately, this didn’t last long and soon large swathes of people began flooding in. The selfie crowds. The elbow-barging, phone-barking types with zero self awareness.

Worst of all, the organised tour groups dressed in uniform colours. Traipsing after a guide hooked up to a microphone, holding up one of those wretched tour company flags. Where’s Mehmed the Conquerer when you need him? 😉

With the foot traffic rapidly increasing and the associated noise levels skyrocketing, it was interesting to observe people attempting to pray amid the hubbub. That’s some admirable patience and self discipline, sir.

In any case I was able to capture the mosque’s most masterly details simply by craning my neck towards the stupendous ceiling and domes. Of these, the artistic pinnacle is surely the dome that houses a number of Christian seraphim.

According to biblical text, these winged angels protect the throne of god. Painted in the 1340s, the Ottomans later covered the angels’ faces with metallic panels after the church’s conversion to a mosque. Interestingly, local authorities eventually removed those covers in 2009.

Not all Christian images were on display, though. Up high on a semi-dome sits an incredible 12th century image of the Virgin and Child. Sadly it remained agonisingly elusive thanks to three carefully hung cotton sheets that ensure the mosaic was hidden from curious eyes.

Exploring the Turkish Capital.

In actual fact this recent development is an improvement. The mosaic had been completely covered by plaster for centuries during Ottoman rule. It wasn’t until 1935 that the American archaeologist Thomas Whittemore uncovered and restored it.

Back then President Ataturk gave Whittemore complete access to the building’s Christian art. The president and the archaeologist were close friends. In a diary entry from the time, Whittemore stated: “It was a mosque one day when I talked to him of my plans. The next day I arrived to see a sign on the door written in his own hand that said: The museum is closed for repairs”. 

In order to see the full glory of Whittemore’s work, I had to jump online to see the restored Mary and Child mosaic. Not too shabby I’d say.

Spying a quiet side of the nave, Sladja and I retreated where we could ponder Hagia Sophia’s complicated relationship with Christianity and Islam. It was also a good opportunity for a photo away from the chattering masses. The subsequent shot reminds me of how I nearly always had a mask attached to my face and how I often forgot to remove it for photos.

Istanbul’s Sublime Hagia Sophia.

It was only after the photo that we realised why this side of the mosque was so eerily quiet. Behind the wooden partition, we learned, lay the designated area for female prayer.

Historically, some Islamic traditions encourage women to pray at home out of public sight. In Istanbul most mosques allow females to enter. However, they must carry out their worship in a separate area. Sometimes a behind-closed-doors space. Elsewhere, as with Hagia Sophia, in a cordoned off area. That afternoon we didn’t see a single woman coming to pray. Just an elderly lady sat in a chair waiting for anyone who might show up.

With the interior getting fuller by the second, we decided to head for the back exit. Outside, in the warm September morning air, we drank in the quietness of the leafy courtyard. It was a precious moment.

On one brick wall, at the bottom of a tall grilled window, a modest sign informed us that the chamber on the other side houses a number of Ottoman sultans.

Mustafa the Mad.

One of the men who rests here is Mustafa I who, due to the political instability of the times, ruled briefly on two separate occasions. Firstly in 1618, then again in 1622. Infamous for his mental instability, historians often refer to him as Mustafa the Mad.

Among his many (allegedly) erratic and eccentric acts, he regularly yanked people’s beards and pulled off their turbans. He also threw coins to the birds and executed the occasional friend on a whim. Mustafa died in 1639 after an epileptic attack. He was 39 years old. 

Speaking of madness, as we left the complex we couldn’t help but notice the afternoon crowds. They had truly kicked in by this point, the line of waiting visitors running all the way down the square and snaking around a corner. Grateful to have avoided it, I allowed myself a smile as we left Istanbul’s grandest mosque behind in search of lunch.

Like this? Take a look at my series of articles on Istanbul.

I’ve been living, working and traveling all over the world since 2001. So why not check out my huge library of travel reports from over 30 countries.